Her Love, His Regrets
by Sindie
Summary: This is not canon-compliant.  What if Harry stumbled upon Snape while he was weeping over Lily's letter at Grimmauld Place?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are copyright of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., and they were used without permission. However, they were used with consideration and with no intention of making money. This story is simply an appreciative fan's attempt at writing something to contribute to the world of Harry Potter.

Email comments to sindie11(at)yahoo(dot)com.

Sindie Presents a Harry Potter Fanfic:

Her Love, His Regrets

One

The early morning sunlight filtered dimly into the ancient room through barely parted heavy drapes, which had again become infested with doxies. The lone man who inhabited the bedroom in that moment desperately scoured the entirety of the place. He had visited the house on one earlier occasion, but had left when the mark burned onto his forearm had flared to life with the usual pain associated with it.

He wasn't completely sure why he had even bothered to return. Hadn't he already exhausted this avenue? Thinking, in vain, that Dumbledore had perhaps left him a clue in this wretched dwelling, Severus had come to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the old headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Of course, they would no longer be using the place, now that he had been branded a traitor by the lot of them, yet he still knew the location of it.

A clue, anything to help him find the boy … Dumbledore had been as elusive as ever before his death, only giving Severus bits and pieces of information. Had the late headmaster truly thought he was bestowing upon his spy the glorious and honorable task of telling Harry Potter that he had to die at the right moment, when the Dark Lord started protecting his cursed snake?

But Voldemort always kept Nagini near these days. Seeing as it was unlikely that Potter or his closest friends would deign to return to Hogwarts with their blessed presences in a few short weeks when he would take upon himself the illustrious title of headmaster - never once feeling he deserved it, for he had robbed Dumbledore of his life, not just his role at Hogwarts – Severus had no idea how to contact the boy.

His hope was that Potter would come to Grimmauld Place, but would he really be that foolish? Potter might not have had his mother's brilliance, but surely even he couldn't be so dim-witted as to come to the place where Severus could, not when Potter thought him as evil a Death Eater as the rest of them.

So, in one last attempt, Severus had come back to the place of his childhood enemy – at least one of them. Upon first popping into Sirius Black's dusty bedroom, Severus had sneered at the brash Gryffindor colors and unmoving Muggle posters of models from twenty years ago decorating the walls. He quickly refocused his thoughts on the task and began removing moth-eaten robes from the wardrobe, tossing the bedclothes haphazardly to the floor, and then pulling out drawer after drawer from the desk. When the last drawer was upended and the contents dislodged chaotically onto the filthy floorboards, Severus stooped down over them, picking up paper after paper. Every piece of parchment was either tossed aside or crumpled into a wad. Everything was just as useless here as he felt – old journal entries that had been ripped from their binding, written assignments from Hogwarts, missives to friends, but then, a letter with writing Severus never imagined finding among Black's things fell almost fatefully onto his lap. In his haste to tear through the pile of papers, this pair had fluttered gently from the rest to make itself known.

Severus stilled his hand over the two pages of the letter in her lovely script. His hand shaking, the palm sweaty, Severus hovered over them for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. He blinked and swallowed, but the emotional lump had settled there and refused to be vanished. He finally worked up the courage to grasp the letter, taking hold of the pages as reverently as a several thousand-year-old manuscript recently unearthed, its contents precious and sacred, but also likely long forgotten.

Severus turned over the first page and began to read. As his immensely dark eyes roved over every word like a last breath, they drank in the fullness behind each one – the way Lily had looped her "G" and the misplaced commas she had never quite figured out how to use properly. Severus pretended this letter could have been written to him, and how he began to inwardly pant with pangs of deep regret for having disposed of the letters she had penned to him all those years ago, trying to forget her in his bitter anger when he had been so incredibly stupid for turning to the Death Eaters.

Severus closed his eyes, pausing mid-read, imaging her hand moving across the paper, and he almost as soon opened his eyes, finding it harder to focus, for tears were beginning to form. The glassiness was overwhelming, and for once, Severus didn't try to wipe his tears away. She had touched these pages many years ago, and holding them now, Severus thought he might behold something of Lily, however miniscule.

Then he heard her voice. As he continued to read, the voice within that was usually a rich baritone melded into the soft, melodic tones he associated with her, and then came her Christmas-bell laughter. Severus was nearing the end of the letter now, and when he came to her last words, "Lots of love, Lily," he choked back a sob.

Love. Lily.

Nothing else mattered in the contents. What did he care of Potter, both of them? What did it matter that the letter had been written to Black? There had been some mention of Dumbledore, which Severus quickly forced from his mind. He didn't need to be reminded of him, either.

He glanced at his lap, shifting his gaze, and one heavy tear rolled down the entirely of his hooked nose and onto the letter, briefly smearing the ink. Severus cringed and wanted to punish himself for ruining this small bit of Lily. Then, there on his lap, he saw it – Lily's lovely white-toothed smile gazing up at him. She was a part of a small photograph, but the other side contained a baby Harry Potter zooming around on a toy broom with reckless abandon, his father's feet in the background. Lily looked to be laughing, and Severus could easily put the sound of her laughter he had heard in his mind to the picture in front of him.

He beheld the picture more closely, intently focusing on Lily. He took in every precious feature of her beautiful face: the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the bounce of her long hair over her shoulders, the smattering of small freckles on her dainty nose and pink cheeks.

In an instant, he tore the photo in half and discarded the unimportant part, not caring where it fell. Likewise, he took the second page of the letter, which bore her love, even if it wasn't for him, and placed the two securely and ardently in his chest pocket. He shook himself from his dismal reverie, swiping his hand viciously across his face as he stood, wishing to remove all traces of his despair and regret. He knew every ounce of remorse by size, shape, and name. He didn't need further reminders in the forms of tears.

There was nothing here for him, nothing but memories, as was everything about Lily. He turned to leave, only to be knocked over in much the same manner he had three years previously in the Shrieking Shack by Potter and his friends. Severus kept his consciousness this time, however, as he made contact with the wall. He made to grab his wand, which had fallen from his grip upon hitting the wall, but two green eyes were staring him down, a wand pointed directly between his own eyes.

"Don't you dare make one move, you bloody coward," challenged the hateful voice of Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Something was poking him uncomfortably in the back, which was not a pleasant way to be awakened. Neither was realizing that his whole side now ached from lying on the hard floor all night. With a small groan, Harry Potter opened his eyes and winced as he sat up. The world around him was still blurry, so he felt around for his glasses and was glad that something was righted again out of everything that had gone wrong lately. He reached around himself to feel what was bothering him and found his wand stowed in his back pocket.

Gazing around the mostly dark room, Harry noticed Ron and Hermione still sleeping not far away. Hermione was sprawled out on the couch's cushions, which Ron must have gallantly offered her the night before; Harry couldn't remember. Harry took in the detail of Ron and Hermione's out-stretched hands clasping each other, and he felt odd. Unsure of what to make of the romantic development between his best friends, Harry decided to leave the room and explore the rest of the house.

Now standing, Harry reflected back on the last several days. It didn't seem possible that so much could happen in such a short amount of time – how he had been kissing Ginny only a couple of days ago in her bedroom and celebrating his birthday with his friends. That, Harry knew, had been one of the few good things in his life of late. Being chased down by Death Eaters as the Order tried to transport him safely from Privet Drive to the Burrow, the loss of Mad-Eye Moody, the attack during the wedding and being further pursued in the café, and finally, the old hag Auntie Muriel's questioning of Dumbledore's character – all these events weighed on Harry's heart.

He crossed through the hallway toward the front entrance, where Harry previously thought Dumbledore's ghost had greeted them.

_Dumbledore_, thought Harry.

With the late headmaster's name whirling through his weary mind, Harry wondered how Dumbledore thought he was supposed to forge onward with the little knowledge he had about the Horcruxes. He didn't even know where to begin, and without Dumbledore, Harry felt lost. He didn't wish to think poorly of the aged wizard. However, Muriel's words and Rita Skeeter's announcement of the upcoming publication of her biography on Dumbledore caused doubt, that unwelcome visitor, to knock on the door to Harry's thoughts.

Harry took in the disheveled and ransacked house again, grateful to have some time to himself to think about things. He knew Mundungus Fletcher had scoured the house in the past year, filching Sirius's (and therefore his) possessions. It was obvious that Grimmauld Place had gone neglected without the Order meeting here, but did that account for the disarray of the place at present? Despite whatever Hermione had tried to reason, Harry highly suspected that Snape had been here.

Thinking about Dumbledore usually led to thinking about Snape, for Harry had a difficult time separating the two. Dumbledore's blind conviction of Snape had ultimately led to his murder at the wand of the man he had told Harry countless times that he trusted.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs now, Harry thought he heard a faint bump upstairs. He frowned and held his wand aloft, taking the steps one at a time, slowly and carefully, deliberately not causing a sound. If he was right about Snape being here, what if he was still inside the house?

Harry glanced briefly downstairs at Ron and Hermione's sleeping forms and decided he would leave them undisturbed. Neither of them understood the full magnitude of Harry's hatred toward Snape, of his blatant desire to make the traitorous man pay for every evil thing he had done in his abysmal life.

Upon reaching the door to Sirius's bedroom, Harry pressed his ear against the door. He heard rustling from within and knew without a doubt that someone was inside. He longed to be in possession of Moody's magical eye right about now so he could look through the door, but seeing as he had no such appendage, Harry grasped the handle and turned. He peeked through an inch of the crack he had created between the door and the frame and stifled his gasp as his eyes settled upon the very person he inferred to be there.

Snape's back was facing him. He swiped his arm across his face and stood, and Harry thought he heard a sniff. Suddenly, Snape was turning toward the door, but Harry reacted with lightning speed as he raised his wand and Disarmed Snape, causing the man's wand to fly from his grasp as his body was flung backward into the wall with a resounding thud. As Snape realized he was not alone and struggled to reach for his wand, Harry was already across the room, aiming his wand between those two black eyes. Such ferocity glared at Harry; he wondered if Snape might curse him with his gaze alone if he could.

"Don't you dare make one move, you bloody coward," challenged Harry. He then cast a spell on the room to keep anyone outside from overhearing any conversation that was about to occur.

"So like your father," Snape sneered, "calling me the coward when I'm the one who's Disarmed and you aren't."

Harry jabbed his wand into Snape's nose, detesting the hooked feature as much as he did the man. "Shut up about my father. Another word about him, Snape, and I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" Snape asked darkly. "Kill me?"

Harry faltered. It was one thing to speak of killing, but to actually do it was quite another. Harry thought of Draco Malfoy and his inability to murder Dumbledore, despite his big-headed talk to the contrary. If Draco wasn't a killer, then Harry didn't think he was. As much as Harry wished Snape harm, he wasn't going to be that person.

"I'm not like you," Harry spat. "I'm not a murderer. What are you doing here?"

"That is hardly your business, Potter," Snape continued to sneer.

"You will answer me, Snape, especially seeing as you're trespassing on my property. Now, I'll ask again. What are you doing here?"

"How touching. Black left you this filthy, abandoned house in his will, did he?" Snape asked in mock sympathy. "It's about as useful as he was-"

Harry silenced Snape with his wand. Snape glared at Harry and made to physically attack, but Harry, having the man at his mercy, bound Snape with ropes.

"How does it feel to be the one on the ground, Snape?" Harry posed angrily. "You had your chance with me after you killed Dumbledore, but seeing as you were too cowardly to use it-"

Harry wasn't expecting what happened next. Somehow, Snape was free of the ropes, and he was standing, advancing on Harry. He roughly grabbed the younger man by the collar and pulled him close, shaking him so hard that Harry lost the grip he had on his wand.

"You will not call me coward again, Potter," Snape said menacingly, now nose-to-nose with Harry.

Harry felt Snape's breath hot on his face. He wished, once again, that he was more skilled than Snape with a wand, but Snape was obviously powerful enough to do wandless and nonverbal magic. Harry hated him all the more for it.

"You never fought fairly," Harry hissed. "You've hated me from the moment you laid eyes on me, and for what? Because of my father? If you hate me that much, why not just be done with it and kill me? Isn't that what you want?"

Harry had purposefully been locking his eyes on Snape's, refusing to blink, and Snape had been glowering back fiercely, but something shifted in those black eyes, and Snape's grip on Harry loosened. Confused, Harry made to speak again, but Snape cut him off.

"You know nothing," Snape whispered bitterly.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Severus slackened his grip completely on Potter now and released him, taking a step back. He seemed unable to help himself whenever a Potter was around. His emotions had already been running high. Moments ago, Severus had felt utter despair filling every fiber of his being, rushing through his veins and draining him.

"Oh, I think I know plenty," Potter was now going on, much to Severus's dismay. "You murdered Dumbledore in cold blood, even though he vouched for you more times than I can imagine. You're responsible for the murder of my parents. By handing over the prophecy to Vol-"

"Don't you dare say the Dark Lord's name," Severus hissed automatically. He loathed that creature.

"-Voldemort," Potter continued, pretending he hadn't heard Severus, "you just as well killed them, and it makes sense. You always hated my father, and my mum, well, you couldn't have thought much of her, either … calling her Mudblood."

"Don't!" Severus howled, the cursed word the only one worse to him than the Dark Lord's disgusting name.

For a moment, Potter had the audacity to look floored. Severus was breathing rapidly and shallowly, feeling like a caged animal. He felt he owed Potter nothing in way of explanation, yet Lily's eyes had been staring back at him with such venom only seconds ago, and now, to be reminded of his worst memory, Severus felt the stab to his heart all over again. The scar reopened, as it had many times over the course of the past several years, and he wanted to run and hide. Alone, no one had to see how weak and cowardly he felt he truly was, most especially not Potter.

Severus clutched at his pocket, in which Lily's letter and picture were safely stowed. He needed to leave, now.

"Wait," Potter said, his voice unnaturally calm.

Severus didn't know why he hesitated. He knew he had to speak with the boy at some point during the war, as he had crucial information. For no other reason, he told himself, he would stay and convince Potter that he was doomed to die, that he had to die.

_What must you think now, Lily? For all the protection in the world, it hasn't mattered. He will still die in the end, _thought Severus hollowly, hopelessly.

Potter must have been more perceptive than Severus gave him credit for, because he was watching him closely. At first, only distrust and skepticism filled those green eyes, but with cautious vacillation, Potter asked, "Why are you here, Snape? For all you've already done to ruin my life and the lives of those who've loved me, I think you owe me at least this."

Severus wondered how much Potter had witnessed upon stepping into the room and cursed himself mentally for his moment of weakness.

"You must die," Severus stated, removing all feeling from his voice. He could not afford to be at a disadvantage again.

Potter snorted. "So, you've finally decided to kill me after all?" he asked.

Severus didn't detect any fear in Potter's tone and thought him a fool for it.

"No," Severus said impatiently, "by the hands of the Dark Lord. The night he tried to kill you, Lil- your mother sacrificed herself instead-" Severus paused, swallowing down the discomfort and anguish the retelling of Lily's forfeit was causing him, "-and a part of the Dark Lord's soul latched onto you. While you live, he cannot die. He must be the one to kill you."

Potter turned several shades lighter and regarded Severus in horror. If he had noticed Severus's faltering over Lily's name and the difficulty with which he told the tale of her end, he didn't show it.

"Why are you telling me this? Why didn't Dumbledore-"

"Because, I suppose, the headmaster delegated the worst of tasks to others," Severus said heavily, recalling all the times Dumbledore had asked the practically impossible of him and of the boy in front of him.

"Dumbledore told you this," Potter said slowly. "And he trusted you with this information? Just like he trusted you with his life and so much else?"

Suddenly, Potter was turning red and reaching for his fallen wand.

Severus scurried to the place where he own wand had landed and collected it, aiming it at Potter.

"I wouldn't do anything stupid if I were you, Potter, even though I realize how difficult that is for you. You now have the information I had the pleasure," he sneered sarcastically, "of delivering to you."

"I don't believe you!" Potter yelled in outrage.

Those were the last words Severus heard from the infernal boy as his Apparated to his home on Spinner's End. Collapsing into his wing-back chair, Severus removed Lily's letter and picture from the pocket over his heaving chest. He gazed down upon her pretty, smiling face: his eternal source of purpose to continue on in this abomination called life.

"He's not like you," Severus said softly. "I don't care what Dumbledore says- said. Everything was a waste. He's to die. That's the way it was always meant to be, Lily."

A tiny drop of water hit the surface of the picture, and Severus quickly wiped it away, lest it damage her smile. He had already ruined enough.

Severus closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair, muttering, "If I'm lucky, I'll be dead before he is."


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Harry simply stood in place, rooted to the floor for several long seconds after Snape left. The words they had just exchanged were still fresh in his mind, whirling around in circles. Harry was more confused than anything. His outrage at Snape and his denial of the traitor's words were a cover.

Harry blinked at the spot where Snape had stood moments ago. On the floor were several papers strewn about, and as Harry gazed around the rest of the room, he took in the disheveled appearance. Snape had ransacked Sirius's bedroom, just as he had the rest of the house. Harry had suspected this upon entrance to Grimmauld Place yesterday, for who else but Snape would know how to locate the Order's old headquarters and have reason to rip it apart? He couldn't imagine any of the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, or Moody, when he had been alive, disgracing the house so thoroughly.

What had Snape been doing here, anyway? He had never answered Harry's question, which didn't surprise him. The man had been as elusive as ever.

Harry walked over to the littered floor and knelt down, picking through the tattered pieces of parchment. These had been Sirius's things, and Snape had just thrown them aside, surely thinking them as useless as Sirius. He spotted a photograph and picked it up.

He saw a baby version of himself flying around on a toy broomstick, only a couple of feet above the floor. Feet followed him, and he figured they had to belong to his dad. The picture had been ripped, though. What had been on the other side? Had Snape taken a part of the picture?

Harry looked back down at the papers and pushed aside some that were meaningless to him. He didn't think Sirius's old homework assignments were really all that interesting, even though they had been Sirius's. He would keep them for that reason alone, but they wouldn't answer any questions. Then Harry noticed it – a letter. The script was his mother's, and with a small gasp, Harry gingerly picked it up and read it.

The Potters had been in hiding when she had written it, and she had mentioned Harry's first birthday and the broom, a gift from Sirius. So, that meant they had less than three months left when she had written this. She talked about their neighbor, Bathilda Bagshot, visiting, and then turned to speaking about Dumbledore. Harry anxiously looked for the next page, but nothing could be found that completed the letter. What had Lily said about Dumbledore? Had Snape taken the second part of the letter, in addition to the half of the picture?

When Harry had first opened the door, for a second, he had noticed Snape tucking something into his robes as he stood, but he hadn't been able to see anything but the man's back. Harry screwed up his face in concentration, trying to recall what Snape might have been doing in that moment. He remembered an uncharacteristic sound coming from the vicinity of the wizard – a sniff? – and the swiping of his arm across his face. Snape had also reacted strongly to Harry using the word Mudblood when referring to Lily.

Harry had been momentarily taken aback at Snape's reaction then. He had been sure, so sure, that Snape must have loathed Lily as much as James, for hadn't he seen for himself Snape calling Lily that awful name in the memory? Hadn't Snape taken the prophecy to his master all the same?

_But why would he take a picture of my mum and part of her letter? Why was he here? Why didn't he just take me to Voldemort? I was at his mercy, and all he seemed to want to do was leave._

Harry was more confused than ever. He didn't think it possible for Snape to have, what, been fond of Lily? It was a ridiculous notion. Harry was disgusted at the prospect of Snape having any sort of feelings for anyone, but his mum? No, no, that was ludicrous. There had to be some other explanation.

Harry took his mother's letter and the picture with him, torn about what to believe about Snape. He stood and gazed around the room one last time before closing the door and going back downstairs to his friends.

Harry found Ron and Hermione just as he had left them, which wasn't surprising, considering he had cast a spell on Sirius's room to keep from being overheard.

Sighing, Harry flopped onto the cushionless sofa and settled his head against the back, staring up at the ceiling and following an impressive crack that started in the far left corner and made its way nearly halfway across the plaster.

Harry hadn't realized it, but he must have drifted off to sleep, for some time later, he was awakened to shuffling as Ron and Hermione woke. Ron was scratching his upper back and stretching his neck to the side, groaning about discomfort. Hermione was watching him in bemusement.

"You can have the cushions tonight, Ron," she said. "It wasn't great, but it was better than the floor, I'm sure."

Ron half-smiled at Hermione and then glanced at Harry when he noticed movement from the direction of the sofa.

"Harry's the one who insisted we all stick together," Ron grumbled. "There are bedrooms in this house, you know, mate."

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied uneasily. "Like Sirius's."

Hermione gazed at Harry with the question she wished to ask clearly displayed on her face, but she voiced it, anyway: "Were you in Sirius's bedroom, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but I wasn't the only one there."

"What?" Ron asked, incredulous. "What d'you mean? Who was with you?"

"I woke up before you, maybe a couple of hours ago, and I thought I heard something upstairs, so I decided to check it out. Turns out I was right about Snape being the one who ransacked the house. He was there, right in Sirius's room-"

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "What were you thinking? Going up there alone? You didn't let him know you were there, I take it?"

"Like hell I didn't, Hermione," Harry said savagely. "You know I'd like nothing better than to be face-to-face with that traitor, and this was my chance."

Harry proceeded to explain what had ensued thereafter and finished with, "He was obviously lying about me having a piece of Voldemort inside of me. It was just a convenient excuse to say why he thought Voldemort ought to win, to be the one to kill me." Harry, however, didn't share his concerns about Snape's possible connections with Lily.

"Blimey," Ron breathed, paling nonetheless.

"Harry," Hermione implored, stepping directly in front of him, "I know you don't like Snape, and you have no reason in the world to trust him, but what if it's true? I mean, just consider it for a moment. It does make sense. I can't figure out why he didn't just take you with him this morning, unless-"

"Don't say it, Hermione," Harry cut in roughly. "Are you forgetting who murdered Dumbledore, the man who vouched for him, despite all evidence to the contrary? Snape's hated me from the moment he laid eyes on me. Why wouldn't he want me dead?"

"I don't know," Hermione confessed in a small voice, "but something just isn't adding up, Harry. Is there something you aren't telling us?"

"No," Harry lied, although he couldn't be sure it was a true lie.

He didn't actually know if Snape had any sort of feelings for Lily, but Hermione was right. Something wasn't making sense about Snape, but wasn't that how Snape operated best – by deception? Harry didn't know what to believe about Snape, but whatever it was that eluded him about the man, it couldn't be good.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

The remaining summer days slipped away. Severus had known the Dark Lord would appoint him as the new headmaster of Hogwarts, but this day still seemed like it ought to never come. The rain was now pounding down upon his head and shoulders as he stared ahead at the familiar iron gates of the school, the place that had become more of a home to him in his mostly miserable life than any other place.

Nightfall had come an hour ago, so only a few faint lights could be glimpsed spotting the castle in the distance. Severus sighed and readied himself.

He entered the gates like he belonged there, when nothing could feel further from the truth. Upon stepping onto the grounds, he cast a wary glance at Hagrid's hut and wondered what the half-giant would do to him with his bare hands if given the opportunity.

To say Severus was not welcome here was a vast understatement. Yet, he would need to keep up appearances more than ever. He could confide in no one, save Dumbledore's portrait, but talking to and seeing the painting of the man he had killed was not something he was looking forward to.

The students would be returning tomorrow, and a new school year would begin. Hogwarts wouldn't be the place it had been, not with Death Eaters running it. Severus had promised to protect the students within its wall as best as he could, and he would do so until his last breath, but his role in the war had become more tenuous than he thought he could bear much longer.

His mind wouldn't stop thinking, wouldn't leave him in peace. Before he knew it, he was entering Hogwarts through the front doors and stepping into the entrance hall. There was no one to greet him, of course. Who would want to welcome a traitor, after all?

Severus moved his gaze across the aged stone floor and walls, all so recognizable, yet now foreign because this Hogwarts was not the Hogwarts he had known and become comfortable with. His felt like a visitor to a faraway place.

Deciding it best to face what lay ahead, Severus made his way to the headmaster's office. If he had felt uninvited before, the feeling was only further enhanced upon entering what still was very much Dumbledore's office. It was filled with darkness, and only the soft snores of its many portraits could be heard. Severus bit his thin lower lip in apprehension and muttered the Lumos spell, finding his way toward the desk.

What had always been Dumbledore's wing-backed chair sat before him, behind the large and ornate desk. Severus watched it warily, as if expecting Dumbledore to appear within its regal cushions, perhaps offering him a sherbet lemon and a cup of tea. Feeling wholly unworthy, Severus took the seat he had always occupied during his many visits with the late headmaster. He gazed around the room at the slumbering portraits and sucked in a sharp intake a breath when his black eyes fell on Dumbledore's painting.

The fates simply had to make his life a worse joke than it already was, for Dumbledore was awake and was gazing back at Severus placidly. He had obviously been expecting him.

"Welcome, Severus, or should I say Headmaster Snape?" Dumbledore inquired conversationally, his eyes somehow twinkling just as annoyingly on the canvas as they had in life.

"Don't call me that," Severus muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Oh, now, my dear boy, we both knew, or rather highly suspected, that this would come to pass. Surely you have managed to trick Lord Voldemort into believing you are his most loyal servant if he has bestowed this honor upon you," Dumbledore continued mildly.

"Yes, and I suppose you are most happy about it, seeing as you're dead because of me," Severus nearly snarled. "Don't speak of this as if we were having a delightful dinner and talking of the change in the weather. You asked the near impossible of me, Dumbledore, and I did it, all on your orders! You got to leave this world, but I, no, I have to continue to live in it – to exist and nothing else."

Dumbledore sighed witheringly. "Please, Severus, do listen to me and hear what I am about to tell you, for I mean every word. Your role is more important than mine in all this. No one could have done what you did, what I asked of you. I took no pleasure in forcing your hand. You may not believe me, but it is true."

"I'm tired, Dumbledore," Severus muttered, burying his face in his hands, his hair falling forward to obscure his visage. "I'm tired of taking orders from you and him, of being your puppet, of having to go on pretending that I am honored to be here, of… of living."

"Surely you don't mean that, Severus," Dumbledore uttered, his brushy silver brows furrowing.

Severus glared up at the infernal portrait. "I have never been so sure of anything. For your information, sir, while I am here belaying all my dire concerns to you, you ought to know that I had the immense pleasure of sharing the information with Potter that you so blessed me with earlier this year," Severus finished, sarcasm dripping heavily from every word.

Dumbledore's eyes suddenly lit up in great interest. "You saw Harry, then? Under what circumstances? How did you convince him to believe you? Are you sure it was the right time? Is Voldemort keeping Nagini nearby, then?"

Severus stood as he continued to glower at Dumbledore.

"So many questions, Headmaster. Oh, wait – I stripped you of that admirable title." Severus sneered, and then smirked darkly. "I grow weary of your interrogation, Dumbledore. We are not going to continue playing this game, where I sit idly by and dish out information to you as you probe my mind. I've had enough for one lifetime, however pathetic it might be. I'm going to try to get what little sleep I can before hell begins tomorrow, or at least I enter a lower level of it. Good night."

Dumbledore watched, aghast, as Severus walked out of the office with a slam of the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

A few weeks into the school year, Severus was amazed that he was still breathing. It wasn't that he was worried that the threats from students who outwardly opposed him and the Carrows were anything to be taken seriously. No, it was simply the day in and day out regime of having to play his part so carefully and so craftily as to not give away his true allegiance. To protect the students as best as he could while pretending to be a Death Eater whose heart was just as dark and mind was just as twisted as the Carrows was a balancing act that required the utmost precision. His near-sleepless nights from the past were now fully sleepless, unless he gave in to taking Dreamless Sleep, which he had to do every few nights because his body would have stopped functioning properly otherwise.

The rallying of the Gryffindors and a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had been a mere annoyance at first, but as Longbottom's-lead resistance grew, Severus began to wonder how he was supposed to ensure the idiot students were protected if they kept blatantly standing up to the Carrows. Severus shouldn't have been surprised, then, when he caught Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, and Miss Weasley breaking into his office one afternoon.

Upon entering the headmaster's office, Severus nearly collided with the three culprits. Longbottom was clearly the leader. The boy stepped back and glared up at Severus, as if daring him to try and stop him.

"And what, may I ask," Severus said icily, "are three students doing in my office?" Spotting something behind Longbottom's back, Severus persisted, "What is that you're hiding, Longbottom?"

"It's not your office," Longbottom shot back, "and we were taking what clearly isn't yours."

Had he been alone, Severus would have pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. With a flick of his wand, the Sword of Gryffindor flew out of Longbottom's grasp and into his hands.

"Ah, the Sword of Gryffindor," Severus sneered. "Yes, it's unfortunate that such an artifact belonged to the founder of such an abominable house, but seeing as this office is indeed my own, as I am Headmaster, its contents are also under my ownership."

"That sword isn't yours, and neither is this office!" Miss Weasley shot at Severus.

Severus gazed down at the youngest Weasley with raised eyebrows. "All this idle talk," he said smoothly. "I think we might as well get comfortable, don't you think, as I mete out your proper punishment? Since you seemed so interested in visiting the head's office, then why don't we all take seats?"

Severus pointed his wand at the three of them. Miss Lovegood alone didn't glare at him, but Longbottom and Miss Weasley refrained, smartly, from speaking further.

"I insist," Severus said, prodding them ahead and toward seats in front of the desk that Severus rightly felt belonged to Dumbledore.

Severus took Dumbledore's old seat and momentarily gazed around the office that he knew was not his. Longbottom and Miss Weasley were quite right in that assessment – not that he would ever openly admit as much.

"Now," Severus drawled, placing the sword on the desk in front of him and stroking a long, pale finger down the length of it in slow deliberation, "your punishment."

Severus pointed his wand at Longbottom. "Taking a page out of your dear parents' book, Longbottom?" he inquired. "Playing the hero like an Order member and an Auror, when you are nothing but a mediocre student at best and a menace at worst? Look where it got old Mum and Dad. Should I enact a punishment the Longbottom family is all too acquainted with? The Cruciatus, hmm?"

Longbottom bit his lower lip to keep from speaking, and Severus wondered if the young man might cry and cower right there in front of him. It wasn't likely. Despite Severus's words, he gazed upon Neville Longbottom and thought, rather, that Frank and Alice Longbottom had been more heroic than many. He would never tell the boy across from him such trite nonsense, however, since he was supposed to be a heartless Death Eater-turned-Headmaster.

"I thought your specialty was the Killing Curse," Miss Weasley spat at Severus, leaning forward on the edge of her seat, as if ready to pounce him.

"Careful, Miss Weasley," Severus said darkly, now pointing his wand at her. "You wouldn't want me to prove that point, would you?"

"You're nothing but a lying, conniving, back-stabbing Death Eater!" Miss Weasley continued hotly. "Everyone knows you murdered Dumbledore. I bet you're really proud to be sitting in his office."

"Silence!" Severus hissed. "You are just like the rest of your pathetic family, Miss Weasley – a load of hotheads who never amounted to anything. What would Mummy and Daddy say if their youngest and only daughter were, indeed, gone?"

Longbottom was on his feet in a second and standing in front of Miss Weasley. "You'll have to kill me first!" he yelled.

"Sit down, Longbottom!" Severus ordered. "I'm not about to go murdering students."

Longbottom gazed skeptically at Severus, but Miss Lovegood tugged on his sleeve and begged him with those ridiculously large eyes of hers to sit down.

"You would be wise to do as the oddity says without words," Severus said.

Longbottom resumed his seat, but didn't take his eyes off Severus. Severus then fully looked upon Miss Lovegood for the first time that day, pointing his wand in turn at her. "A Ravenclaw who spends her time with Gryffindors – tsk, tsk, Miss Lovegood. What would your mother say if she were still alive?"

"I imagine she would be proud, sir," Miss Lovegood stated truthfully, gazing at Severus with such sincerity that it almost unsettled him.

Severus sneered at her and removed his eyes from hers. He didn't need her frank judgment or assessment. The game was suddenly not so fun, as much as Severus took enjoyment out of rattling the students with empty threats. He had been growing more and more weary by the day of his role in the war and in the school.

"Hagrid," Severus said.

"Excuse me?" Longbottom asked.

"Hagrid," Severus stated more loudly. "You will serve detention tomorrow night in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. Now, off with you. Be thankful that it was me and not the Carrows who dealt with you. Next time, I shall not be so lenient. Get out."

The trio didn't need to be told twice. A minute later, Severus was alone. He sagged down into the chair in small relief and sheer exhaustion.

"My, Severus," came Dumbledore's voice from behind him, "that was one of your most impressive and convincing performances."

"Enough, Dumbledore. The act is over. I will not entertain you anymore for today."


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

Frigid air permeated every pore of Harry's body. He had been sitting just outside the tent's opening, keeping watch, when the silver doe Patronus had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He had followed it unthinkingly into the depths of the forest in the middle of this winter night, and now it had vanished, leaving him completely alone in the darkness.

He gazed around, trying to discern what possible reason the doe had for bringing him here, and then he spotted it – the gleam of the Sword of Gryffindor beneath of the surface of a pool of icy water. He knew he would have to dive in and retrieve it, and so, forcing himself, he removed his clothing and stood on the edge of the water, staring down at his destination. Taking a deep breath, Harry made the plunge and tried not to cry out as the sheer cold of the water attacked him from every angle like daggers.

He reached for the sword, but something was tugging at his neck, pulling and strangling him, trying to keep him from his prize – the locket Horcrux. Too late he realized he should have removed it along with his clothing, but to risk leaving it unprotected was foolish in the extreme. He tried swimming toward the sword, but found he was unable to move in any direction. The Horcrux would surely choke him to death if he couldn't get to the surface in time for a breath of air, but then, out of nowhere, he felt two arms encircling him and pulling him upward just he managed to grasp the sword.

Upon surfacing, Harry's lungs felt like they would explode as the chilly air rushed into them, but at the same time, that air was life to Harry as he desperately sucked it in. As he took great heaving breaths while lying spread-eagle on the frozen ground, he managed to turn his head to see who his savior had been.

"Do us both the decency of putting some clothes on, Potter," the familiar sneering voice came as Harry's clothes were thrown at him.

Shocked and rendered speechless, Harry grabbed his clothes and quickly pulled them on, grateful for the covering and what warmth they afforded him.

"You," Harry almost stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently saving your pathetic skin, like always. I wasn't supposed to make my presence known to you, according to Dumbledore, but I had little choice, lest I stand by as the wizarding world's savior drowns to death," Snape stated, his lip curling.

"Dumbledore… wait, you're still taking orders from Dumbledore," Harry said, trying to process what he was hearing. "His portrait, right."

Over the past few months, Harry had thought long and hard about his encounter with Snape at Grimmauld Place, and contrary to what he wanted to believe about the man, he found he couldn't label him the traitor he once had. He still didn't fully trust Snape because the man eluded his understanding and refused to be honest with him.

"Very good, Potter," Snape said, sounding uncharacteristically tired. "Now that you have the sword, my business here is done."

"Wait," Harry bit out, standing, "please – just… what do you have to rush back to? I've had a lot of time to think about things concerning you and your loyalties, and the only thing I can reason from what I found you doing that day at Grimmauld Place was that you and my mum… There's something there, isn't there?"

Snape froze. His shoulders slumped. Harry had never seen the man so worn, so… defeated? For the first time, Harry considered the price this war was having on Snape if the man was actually loyal to Dumbledore.

"You have the sword. That is all that matters. I have done what I came to do. We all have our part to play, Potter, and it's best you be getting on with yours."

"Snape," Harry implored, "just answer the question."

Snape turned and faced Harry. "It won't change anything that's happened. Why must you know?"

"It changes everything," Harry disagreed emphatically. "If you… had feelings for my mum, if she's why you changed sides, then it means everything to me. I'm her son, Snape. I deserve to know."

Snape looked at Harry directly in the eyes. Normally Harry would have thought the older wizard was trying to read his mind, but there were none of the typical feelings of discomfort Harry usually felt when Snape regarded him so closely. Harry stared back, wishing he knew what Snape was thinking, as his face was as impassive as ever. In the moonlight, Harry couldn't tell if there was any hint of any betrayal of Snape's true feelings displayed on his features.

"Very well," Snape sighed, and Harry felt his heart leap inside his chest. "Yes, your mother and I… we were friends. I knew her before we even went to Hogwarts."

Harry's intuitive thoughts were confirmed. A few months ago, he would have railed at Snape and accused him of lying, but so many things simply hadn't added up where Snape was concerned. Suddenly, what happened in the Pensieve memory Harry had witnessed two years ago made so much sense.

"That's why you were so angry at me that day I sneaked into your memories, isn't it? Not because of what my dad and his friends did to you, but because that was the day you and my mum went your separate ways," Harry guessed, although he was fairly confident he was correct.

Snape stiffened. "You simply had to bring that up, Potter. I will not stand here another moment and discuss my private affairs with you. You already know too much."

"I'm sorry, you know," Harry supplied honestly. "I didn't mean to sneak that day. I didn't look because I was trying to… hurt you like my dad had. No one was telling me anything that year, and I was so frustrated. I just thought you might know something that the Order was keeping from me."

Snape surveyed Harry for a long time without speaking. Once again, Harry wished he knew what was on the other man's mind.

"Perhaps you are not so much like your father, Potter, but it doesn't matter anymore. As I already said, we all have jobs to do in this war, and it is high time I return to mine."

"Good luck, sir," Harry said sincerely. "I hope…" What was he going to say? He hoped to see him again? He hoped Snape survived? "I hope you find some peace after this is over. I intend to finish him."

Snape didn't say anything, but rather disappeared with a crack. Harry stood there for a few more minutes, contemplating the still quite mysterious man named Severus Snape.

Snape's motives made sense now; Harry could see that.

_His Patronus must be the same as my mum's,_ Harry thought. _That alone proves that he loved and still loves her. You can't conjure a Patronus out of anything other than candidly happy memories, and if your Patronus takes on the form of the one you love, no one can dispute that love. _

As Harry walked back to camp, he wished Snape would have plainly told him years ago about his connection with Lily. _Wouldn't it have been better for both of us?_ Harry wondered.


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

Harry didn't see Snape anymore after that night, but he relayed what happened that night to Hermione and Ron after Ron returned and destroyed the locket Horcrux a matter of hours later. Then they were visiting Xenophilius Lovegood and learning about the Deathly Hallows. Harry grew confused as to what Dumbledore wanted him to do – go after the Hallows or the Horcruxes. His confidence in the late headmaster wavered as his doubts about the man increased. Seeing how Dumbledore had used Snape, Harry felt much the same way – a mere puppet to be controlled by the old wizard's whims.

The trio was captured by Snatchers. They were imprisoned briefly at Malfoy Manor and rescued by Dobby, who lost his life in the escape. At Shell Cottage, Harry finally realized what he must do – finish what Dumbledore started and rid the world of Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Finally, after months of searching, they found another Horcrux – the cup of Hufflepuff in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts.

Now, Harry and his friends had managed to get inside Hogwarts. Harry felt like everything led back to this place, and his heart was thumping with anticipation in his chest. Surely he would come across Snape whilst within these walls, but what would ensue? Could he be alone long enough to speak with him, to ask if he would take him to the headmaster's office so he could speak with Dumbledore's portrait?

Harry listened to Neville's recounting of the harsh treatment the Carrows rained down upon the students who dared to stand against them. Harry wondered how Snape could continue to carry on pretending to be a loyal Death Eater while surrounded by students and colleagues alike who must have hated him. He didn't try to correct Neville or any of the students when they spoke of the state of Hogwarts with Snape as headmaster, for Harry knew Snape had no choice but to keep up the ruse.

Harry left the Room of Requirement with Luna in search of the last Horcrux, which he surmised had to belong to Ravenclaw. They went to the Tower of Ravenclaw and entered the common room, where Alecto Carrow, followed shortly by her brother, accosted them. Luckily, Minerva McGonagall also came along, and they managed to evade the Death Eaters.

Upon stepping out into the corridor, Harry stayed close to Luna under the Cloak of Invisibility and followed Professor McGonagall, hoping to find the diadem of Ravenclaw. After descending two floors, Harry heard another set of footsteps join them. Wondering who it could be, Harry made to stop and turn around, but McGonagall was faster. She halted and readied her wand for a duel, asking, "Who's there?"

"It is I," said Snape's low voice.

Snape stepped out from behind a suit of armor.

"Where are the Carrows?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus," said McGonagall.

As Snape stepped closer to McGonagall, Harry felt his breathing becoming faster.

"Trust me," he whispered to Luna, giving her hand a squeeze.

Luna nodded.

"I was under the impression," Snape was saying, "that Alecto had apprehended an intruder."

"Really?" inquired McGonagall. "And what gave you that impression?"

Snape flexed his left arm slightly, where Harry knew the Dark Mark to be. Unsure of whether to reveal himself yet, Harry held his breath in expectation.

"Oh, but naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."

Harry noticed that Snape's dark eyes were probing beyond McGonagall, and he strongly suspected that Snape knew he was there, under the cloak.

"I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors, Minerva."

"You have some objection?"

"I wonder what could have brought you out of your bed at this late hour?"

"I thought I heard a disturbance," said McGonagall.

"Really? But all seems calm," Snape ensued, and Harry wondered if the man was delaying the other professor on purpose.

Snape stopped looking past McGonagall and gazed directly into her eyes.

"Have you see Harry Potter, Minerva? Because if you have, I must insist –"

Suddenly, McGonagall was viciously slashing her wand through the air, but Snape managed to protect himself. Harry noticed that Snape merely defended himself and never attacked back as the duel progressed. Everything was so fast, but once Snape barely managed to dodge some daggers that McGonagall sent his way, Harry knew he had to act. He pulled off the cloak and stepped forward, yelling, "Wait! Stop!" just as Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn showed up.

"Potter, what are you doing?" McGonagall shouted back, shocked in outrage, for Harry had closed the distance between her and Snape.

"Don't!" Harry cried, holding up his hands. "Don't hurt him!"

Harry couldn't see the stunned look on Snape's face, but the other professors and Luna were staring at him like he had lost his mind.

"Potter, why are you defending this man?" McGonagall asked.

"Please, Professor," Harry said quickly, "I need to talk with Snape, preferably alone. Everything that's happened isn't what it seems. I trust him."

"What is he talking about, Severus?" Minerva implored.

Snape was now visibly angry. He grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and pulled him closer.

"You wanted an audience with me, Potter?" he sneered, not betraying anything to the others. "Very well. As Headmaster, it is my privilege to move about the castle as I please."

With a pop, Snape Disapparated with Harry and they landed in the headmaster's office. Snape released Harry, who rubbed his arm gingerly.

"Are you daft, Potter?" Snape asked in a rage. "Do you have any idea how hard I've worked all year to keep my cover, and you'll have me blow it all in a matter of seconds?"

"I'm sorry," Harry hastily apologized. "I didn't mean -"

"You never think. That's your problem, Potter." Snape was standing away from Harry now, his arms crossed menacingly over his chest.

Harry met Snape's eyes and didn't even notice Dumbledore's portrait taking in the whole scene unfolding in front of his painted blue eyes.

"I didn't want you to get hurt, or worse – killed," Harry shot at Snape. "Is that such a bad thing? McGonagall hates you now, and she was aiming to kill."

Snape sighed. "I am quite aware that the staff and students alike think me the worst sort of traitor, but that is neither here nor there. If you had given me a chance, Potter, I might have been able to get us an audience alone without you stepping in and revealing my loyalties."

"Oh, from where I stood, things were going swimmingly," Harry said sarcastically. "Do you have a death wish, Snape?"

Snape grimaced, but didn't answer. He changed the subject. "What are you doing at Hogwarts, anyway?"

"He knows," Harry said. "He's on his way. There's something I must find and destroy before he gets here. I've already destroyed -"

"The Dark Lord's Horcruxes?" Snape asked, an eyebrow raised.

"How- how did you know? Dumbledore didn't tell anyone but me," Harry said, dumbfounded.

"Severus has always been far too clever, my boy," Dumbledore's voice suddenly came from the wall. "He figured it out."

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, caught off guard. "Look, I'd love to catch up, but now isn't the time. Do you have any ideas where the diadem of Ravenclaw might be? I'm pretty sure it's here at Hogwarts."

"I see you're very clever, too, Harry," Dumbledore said, beaming proudly. "You figured out the mystery Horcrux, I see. Alas, the diadem has not been seen in years, but perhaps you might be so clever as to figure out the proper hiding place within Hogwarts for such a thing."

Harry felt the answer pop into his head almost effortlessly. "Of course! The Room of Requirement!"

"Brilliant, my boy," Dumbledore congratulated him.

Snape was growing more irritated by the moment. "What are you two talking about? If it's so important, then you have better be finding it, Potter."

"All right," Harry said. "I need your help, though, sir. Can you give me a clear path to the room?"

"What would you have me do, hold your hand? You have that blasted cloak, Potter."

"True," said Harry, "but if you could keep any Death Eaters who will surely be showing up at bay, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll see what I can do," Snape said witheringly. "You do realize that this is madness."

"When hasn't my life been?" Harry asked, smiling. "Sir, please… just be careful."

"I've lived plenty of years as a spy to know how to watch my back, Potter."

"I think Harry's concern for you is touching, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "I had always hoped this day would come, when you two could put aside your differences and work together."

"Save it, Dumbledore," Snape ground out.

Dumbledore was silenced, but kept smirking in triumph all the same.

"Be safe, then, Snape," Harry told his one-time nemesis. "I think the war is upon us, and I don't know if I'll survive."

When Harry said these words, Snape glared sharply at Dumbledore's portrait, which stopped smiling and cast his eyes downward, as if in shame. Harry wondered what was passing between the two men, but didn't ask.

"Knowing you, Potter, you will find a way to survive," Snape said dryly as Harry turned and left.

Author's Note: My apologies for the delay in posting this. Real life has been and continues to be very busy, but I promise not to abandon this story. I always finish my stories. I hope to update again within the next couple of weeks. I appreciate your reviews, favorites, alerts, and reading of this little work.

Certain passages were taken from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _in this chapter.

This is the longest chapter of this story so far, so I hope that helps as part of my apology for not writing sooner.


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

Harry was sweating and covered in dirt, as were Ron and Hermione by his side. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had arrived at Hogwarts, and chaos had followed. Even though only the snake-Horcrux remained, Harry felt like everything was coming to a head... and quickly. His scar burned, and his mind connection to Voldemort was as clear as ever. He needed go to him, and now that he knew the evil bastard was hiding out in the Shrieking Shack, Harry headed there via the underground tunnel.

Unfortunately, Harry had also seen Voldemort asking for Snape. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as he peered between the small gap between a crate covering most of the opening into the room and the wall. Sure enough, Snape was standing there, his back to him.

Voldemort was lazily twirling a wand, the Elder Wand, in his long, white fingers. Harry clung to every word Snape said, knowing he was trying to convince Voldemort to let him go.

"Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."

Even though Snape's voice was eerily calm, Harry knew the poor man had to be verging on desperation. If Harry knew Snape, and he thought he did by this point, Snape was worried about being able to tell Harry where Voldemort was.

Voldemort was now standing and going on about a "problem" he had with the Elder Wand, and as the conversation played out, Snape seemed genuinely confused, unsure of what his old master was talking about.

Again, Snape asked to leave.

"Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius," Voldemort hissed lowly. "Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

_Like you struck down my mum, the woman Snape loved?_ Harry thought savagely, wondering if he ought to risk attacking Voldemort right then and there.

Snape tried, in vain, to make excuses. Harry suspected Snape was beginning to fear, for his manner of speaking wasn't so eloquent anymore.

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But – let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can –"

"I have told you, no!" Voldemort yelled, and Harry knew Voldemort was growing impatient.

Voldemort continued on about his wand being inadequate to defeat Harry. As Voldemort grew angrier, the pain in Harry's head increased, stabbing him. He fisted his hand into his mouth to keep from crying out, and closing his eyes, he could now see what Voldemort saw. Snape was deathly pale, his face hardly moving, and Harry was sure the man was scared.

"My Lord – let me go to the boy –"

Harry noticed that Snape only mentioned going to Harry by this point, perhaps beginning to betray his true intentions to his ex-master. Did Voldemort suspect Snape wasn't his?

Voldemort, however, went on speaking, disregarding Snape's plea: "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner … and I think I have the answer."

Harry, too caught up in the moment of what Voldemort was saying, suddenly realized what was about to happen, and it was confirmed when Voldemort uttered, "While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

"My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand, and Harry shook himself out of Voldemort's mind.

"I have to do something!" Harry hissed to his friends. "He's gonna kill him!"

"Harry, no, it's too dangerous," Hermione whispered, visibly shaking.

Then Harry heard the inevitable, terrible word in Parseltongue: "_Kill_."

The snake, encaged in a globe-like cloud, descended in an instant upon Snape, who screamed, and Harry wanted to scream out loud, too. Snape fell to his knees, trying in desperation to push the cage off.

"I regret it," Voldemort said coldly, and as he walked away, he pointed his wand at the starry cage and removed it, snake and all, off Snape, who fell on his side. Harry acted. He left his hiding spot and went to Snape, who was trying to staunch the bleeding from his neck, where the snake's fangs had pierced it.

"What can I do?" Harry asked anxiously. "Snape, please, tell me what to do."

Snape was rasping.

"Take… it… Take… it…"

Harry sat there, confused, lost, and worried in his despair that he couldn't help Snape. He could see the familiar silvery blue liquid-gas leaking from Snape and knew that the man was giving him his memories, his most cherished memories.

"No, no, keep them," Harry begged, his hands shaking as he clutched at Snape's neck with a piece of his shirt he had ripped off.

Hermione was at his side in an instant, quickly bottling the memories and then sitting next to Harry.

"A Stasis Charm, Harry," she told him, her voice shaking. "It's our best hope for him."

Harry nodded and made to cast it.

"No," Snape whispered. "Let me…"

"Shut up, Snape," Harry whispered back, feeling tears form in his eyes. "You're not going to die on me."

Harry raised his wand and cast the spell, and Snape went still. Ron was kneeling on Snape's other side.

"What now?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Essence of dittany," she said, pulling the bottle out. "You ought to do it."

Harry nodded and poured the potion onto Snape's neck and watched as the wounds closed. He remembered how well the stuff had worked on Ron when he had been splinched.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Ron remarked hollowly. "And the venom-"

"Won't kill him," Hermione interrupted. "Your dad was bit by the same snake, Ron, and he lived. The important thing is getting his blood levels restored, and a blood replenisher would do it, but we're nowhere near his stores."

"Will he live?" Harry asked, looking down at Snape. He felt for a pulse and was relieved when he felt Snape's heart beating. "I'm not leaving him here. He almost died here when Sirius tricked him as a teenager. He deserves some dignity. I'm cleaning him off."

"Harry, we don't have time right now," Hermione interrupted. "Let me and Ron take care of Snape. I promise we'll get him to safety. You… you need to…"

"Find Voldemort and defeat him, right," Harry said softly, not quite meeting his friends' eyes.

No one said what they were thinking, but Harry leaned forward and embraced both Ron and Hermione like his life depended on it, and to be honest, it did. He finally released them and gazed down upon Snape again. Snape's blood covering his hands, Harry gently placed them on the man's chest and said, "Thank you, Snape. If I don't see you again… goodbye."

"Make sure he gets back his memories," he told Hermione, who was clutching the bottle.

Harry stood and stared at Ron, Hermione, and Snape. It seemed appropriate that his best friends were with the man he owed so much to. He owed so much to all of them. Finding his resolve in that, Harry descended into the tunnel, in search of Voldemort.

Author's Note: Certain passages were taken from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _in this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

Severus felt excruciating pain and then nothing at all. He was sure this was the end of his mortal life, and he wondered what he would see next: his hope had been for a reunion with Lily after all these long years, but the grimmer part of his rather expected to see the familiar "fire and brimstone" of hell.

Nothing like that happened, however. His hearing was still working, and he was picking up on muffled voices above him. He felt something wet and warm poured onto his neck that wasn't blood. He felt a gentle touch on his chest and heard more muffled voices. Severus wondered what was going on, and then his eyesight was briefly restored.

He was gazing up into the face of Hermione Granger, her large brown eyes watery with worry and her curly hair haloing her head in a messy array of confusion. Miss Granger must have seen something flicker in his eyes, for she spoke to him.

"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice tremulous.

Severus tried to speak, but his throat constricted. He blinked at her and gave the smallest of nods, which was beginning to hurt as the pain returned.

Miss Granger's eyes overflowed with tears as she smiled. Severus could feel something soft under his head and knew that he was resting on her lap. There was nothing he could do to protest physically, for his body was weakened to the point of feeling like lead, incredibly heavy and immovable. Then, his vision and hearing faded, and he fell asleep.

The next time Severus awoke, he was lying in a bed in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey and several others were situated around various beds on the room, and Severus noticed that every bed was full. Was the war over, then? Were these the injured?

Severus tried, in vain, to sit up, but he was still too weak to prop himself up. Instead, he settled for turning his head to gaze around the room in the direction he could.

_So I've survived_, he thought morosely.

He hadn't expected that.

_I wondered what became of Potter and the Dark Lord. Who won?_

He decided to try to give voice to his thoughts.

"Who… won?" he asked in a raspy whisper.

Madam Pomfrey, who happened to be nearest to him, gave a small start upon hearing Severus's damaged voice.

"Severus?" she exclaimed, turning around.

She was at his side in an instant, waving her wand over him, checking his vitals.

"Holding up well, considering what you've been through," she remarked, and Severus thought he detected concern in her voice.

_If she is upset over my condition, does that mean she knows the truth about me?_ Severus wondered, not sure how he felt about that.

"Who won?" Severus asked again, the need to know rising.

"Harry Potter defeated You-Know-Who," Madam Pomfrey said with a smile. "It's over, Severus. You are safe."

"And Potter… is he alive?"

"Yes, yes, he lives," Madam Pomfrey said, beaming. Her face turned somber once more almost instantly. "But so many were lost. We're lucky you weren't among them, although you almost were. When Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley brought you to me, you were in a very bad way, Severus. They simply told me you were on our side. Mr. Potter later explained everything. I would have treated you regardless."

Severus averted his eyes, feeling self-conscious. Why was Madam Pomfrey being so understanding? Why would she have wasted her time treating him if he had been evil? He left the questions unasked.

Madam Pomfrey didn't press Severus further. Instead, she handed him a glass of water and insisted that he drink, which he gratefully did, as she inclined the bed.

"You may not feel like eating, and it will be difficult with your injuries, but you need your strength. I'm going to order some soup for you."

Madam Pomfrey walked away, leaving Severus alone with his thoughts. There was much to think about, and as he processed all that had occurred in the past day, Severus was feeling overwhelmed to the point of exhaustion. He had never expected to survive. Dying would have been easy, but now he was forced to live on, begging the question as to what to do with his life now. Potter had no doubt told everyone about him working for the Order and Dumbledore all along, and Severus hoped Potter had had the decency not to reveal anything else. When probed with how he could trust Severus, would Potter have given away Severus's deepest secret, that he loved Lily?

Severus's mouth turned downward in a frown, and he could feel the crease between his eyes deepening. His secrets weren't Potter's to give, and yet, Severus had wanted him to see the truth in the end, hadn't he?

_That was when I was supposed to be dying_, Severus thought darkly.

Just when he thought his headache couldn't worsen, Potter entered the infirmary. His damned green eyes locked onto Severus, and Potter smiled, of all the infernal reactions! As much as Severus mentally willed Potter to turn and leave, the boy traipsed across the short distance to his bed and stood there like an imbecile, the hundreds of unasked questions glittering in his eyes and on the verge of spilling from his lips.

"You're awake," Potter stated.

"Always the king… of pointing out… the blatantly obvious," Severus drawled, cursing his stupid throat.

If Severus thought his sarcasm would turn Potter away, he was sorely mistaken.

"I'm glad," Potter went on, having the audacity to take a seat. "How are you feeling, sir?"

"How do you think?" Severus asked, and he would have snarled if he were in full health. "Try having… your throat ripped out… and see how you feel."

Potter didn't seem deterred. If anything, Severus's retorts seemed to be fuelling Potter's happiness.

"What do you want?" Severus questioned impatiently. "If you think… I ought to be… grateful-"

"I don't presume to think anything for you, Snape," Potter interrupted hastily. "You have your pride and your self-preservation, which have served you all these years, although I would ask how well they served you, considering how unhappy you are. I'm not asking for your thanks or appreciation."

"Good, because you… won't be getting it," Severus whispered, looking away.

As Potter had spoken, his eyes had become more and more penetrating, and Severus felt like Lily was sitting there, sizing him up and judging him. Potter's little speech had been too spot-on, given only by someone who could have known him like Lily had. Against his better judgment, Severus secretly conceded what Dumbledore had said all along about the boy: that he really was a lot like his mother.

"Still," Potter went on, not seeming to care that Severus wasn't looking at him, "I'm glad you're alive and all right, at least physically. I think we both know that it will take a lot longer for some wounds to heal."

A stabbing sensation went through Severus's heart, and he whipped his head around, glaring at Potter.

"I thought you… weren't going to presume… to think anything… for me, Potter. If that's the case… then don't. You know nothing…"

"I know more than you think, so I'm not presuming, really, am I? Not if I understand what it feels like to lose her, too. You loved my mother, Snape, not just anyone. I may not remember much of her, but she gave her life for me. I never knew her; you did. To have known the Lily Evans Potter who many have told me was a brilliant witch and a kind witch, but I know so little else about her, but to have known her like you did and lost her, that would be like losing Ron or Hermione to me. I've lost enough people in my life and so have you. You didn't need to die, too."

"Stop babbling already," Severus said tiredly. "I tried… to give you… the memories. They would have… explained everything… but now, I suppose… you expect me to offer… such explanations… since I live."

"I don't expect anything of you, Snape, but to try and live your life as you see fit- to be happy for once," Potter said softly. "If you should feel you want to share what you know of her with me sometime, I would be forever grateful. You've already done more than I could ever thank you for, so I won't ask anything else of you."

Severus was growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Why hadn't Poppy returned with his soup yet? Why had he allowed his conversation to run as long as it had? He didn't want Potter's gratitude.

Severus's dark eyes shifted to the stand beside the bed and spotted a tiny vial there. He reached for it and picked it up, examining it. The silvery contents were his memories. He gazed upon the memories for a while and finally offered them to Potter.

"They are still here… as I left them," Severus murmured. "Take them… and look at them. I don't wish to… explain everything to you. If you have questions… ask them later."

Potter took the vial and pocketed it.

"Thank you, Snape," he said, standing. "I'll let you have your rest. You've been through enough, but I have one thing to ask, if it's not too much-"

"Out with it," Severus snapped, his eyes popping opening suddenly, as they had been drifting shut a moment ago_. I thought you weren't going to ask anything more of me?_

"I would like it if you would consider talking with me again… from time to time," Potter said boldly. "Not just for the sake of my mum, but because… because I want to get to know you better, sir."

Severus's brow furrowed in perplexity and mistrust. He had always been accustomed to being used by others for their gain, yet Potter wanted to know him better for the simply sake of doing so, of caring enough to do so?

"Your suggestion… sounds like…" Severus started, but couldn't finish. _Who would want to be my friend?_

"Friendship?" Potter offered. "Yes, I suppose that's what I'm asking."

Severus tried not to smirk when Potter's cheeks reddened, but were it not for the distraction in Potter's trouble in asking, Severus's thoughts would have gone down the road of self-doubt and destruction.

"I suppose… that might be permissible," Severus quietly admitted.

A part of him, the better part he had tried to keep buried for so long, couldn't be contained any longer. He was alive, wasn't he? Maybe instead of wishing to die and be rejoined with Lily, he ought to try to live, really and truly live, the life he had here, unburdened now of having to serve any master. If he were to be happy, didn't that mean he needed friends? But Severus had been alone for so long, he wasn't sure how to go about such a thing.

Potter smiled, and Severus held up a hand in warning. "Don't get your hopes up… I'm horribly out of practice. And you know… what I'm like."

"Yes, you're brave, brilliant, and loyal as all hell," Potter stated in that annoying Gryffindor bravado, "even if you are a Slytherin."

"Don't push it, Potter. Go and see the memories. Leave me in peace for now," Severus warned.

Potter stood and nodded, that ever-irritating smile on his young face. Now alone, Severus sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes, feeling the sunlight warming his face, along with a small smile.

Her love was stronger than his regrets.

The End

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review! Merry Christmas!

If you want to read a fic that is about a friendship developing between Severus and Harry post-DH, check out my other fic, Autumn Life. That's why I don't continue this here, as it's already been done.


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